The human girl's usual way of defending herself was with physical might, but in these new surroundings, sheer muscle meant nothing. Influence was everything, and Rhiannon had next to none. Though it was said that a Slayer's source of power was in darkness, the demon did not allign itself with Leviathan. Still, the champions of Good played their roles in the balance, and were part of a larger scheme, one to which neither of Leviathan's Brides were privy.
Knowing that, Rhiannon seemed to switch gears, appealing to Atia instead of her betraying co-conspirator. Grabbing onto the wrist that was nearest her, she squeezed, seeming to plea out of desperation. Driving the apparent wedge deeper between Elfleda and herself.
"If It wanted me dead, I would've been gone years ago. Don't do this!" She wet her lips, the blacks of her eyes playing a hasty game of back-and forth. Emissary to Dethroned. Calculating the weight of words, and hoping to manipulate them to her advantage.
Yet another tactic. "Atia..," tilting her head, pleading, "You know Leviathan doesn't call for sacrifices to its Brides. You're just a servant... an acolyte. You're due nothing!"